Gospel Story Finder

“Hey, Shelly!” Shelly looked up from tying her old running shoes to see Rosa waving from the starting line. “Come on,” Rosa called out. “Today we’re going to beat our best time!”
Shelly grinned. Rosa said that every practice.
Shelly liked two things about her new middle school. The first thing was being on the track team. When she ran, she felt light inside, like she didn’t need to worry about anything.
The second thing she liked was that nobody here knew that her parents had just gotten divorced.
Shelly gave her shoelace one last tug and took off to join the other girls on the relay team. Ouch! She winced as her toes jammed into the end of her running shoes. How was she going to tell Dad she needed new shoes again?
After the race, Shelly, Rosa, Becca, and Tiana were celebrating their new best relay time. “I told you we were going to do it today!” Rosa said.
Shelly laughed. She handed the baton to their track teacher and bent to loosen her laces.
“Good work, girls,” Ms. Goldmann said. “You work really well together. Don’t forget to pay your track fee tomorrow.”
Shelley’s smile faded. She had totally forgotten about that!
On the bus ride home, all Shelly could think about was the shoes and the track fee. She didn’t want to give Mom one more thing to worry about. And the last time she had called to ask Dad for extra money, he had sounded annoyed. Lately it seemed like there was no one who could give her the help she needed.
When she got home, Shelly went straight to her room. At dinner her brothers and sisters talked and joked, but she just pushed her food around her plate.
After dinner Mom helped Shelly clear the table. “I’m meeting with Bishop Parker tonight,” Mom said. “Would you like to come and get a priesthood blessing?”
Shelly nodded. She really missed the blessings Dad used to give her when she was worried or sick.
A little later, as Bishop Parker gave her a blessing, Shelly felt something deep inside her relax. “Shelly, your dad isn’t in your home to help you now,” he said in the blessing. “But your Heavenly Father is always there. I bless you that you will be able to talk to Him just as you would to your dad, and Heavenly Father will always help you.”
Shelly felt lighter than she had for a long time. She had a warm feeling inside that told her the bishop’s words were true. Heavenly Father loved her and would listen to her. With His help, maybe she could even have the courage to talk to her parents.
On the way home, she told Mom about the shoes and the track fee. That night she knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help her have the courage to talk to her dad. She prayed about it again on the bus to school the next morning. By the time she got home from school, she felt brave enough to call her dad. This time he didn’t seem impatient or annoyed when she told him what she needed. Her prayers had been answered.
A few weeks later, Shelly laced up her new running shoes and ran to join Rosa and the other girls. It felt good to know she had a great team supporting her. She didn’t need to run her race alone.

When a construction accident left him unable to walk, Rodrigo Quintanilla could no longer work as a welder—or do a lot of other things. But he decided to move forward with faith, trusting in Heavenly Father’s plan for him and his family.
When something really bad happens to us, we can respond in one of two ways. We can get angry with God and leave the Church, having nothing more to do with it. Or we can get on our knees, pray, and continue to grow.
I didn’t lose my faith, nor did I ask myself, “Why did this happen to me?” I refused to go down that road.
When a trial comes to us, I know our Father in Heaven provides a way through that trial. As I recuperated, having the company of the Holy Ghost was essential. I had to reinvent myself professionally, so I prayed for the Spirit’s guidance. God answered me.
I spent the first year after my accident in recovery and rehabilitation. I spent the second year determining what to do. I needed to find something that would at least cover my family’s basic needs—something that didn’t take a lot of strength and that I could do from a wheelchair.
With help from my wife, Paola, and my children, Ricardo and Nicol, I began an in-home business. We started by offering a key-copying service. We slowly added more services. I gathered know-how here and there. I learned with practice. Now, nine years later, we run a locksmith shop and a copy center with printing and laminating services.
“I had to reinvent myself professionally, so I prayed for the Spirit’s guidance,” says Rodrigo. “God answered me.”
With guidance from the Holy Ghost and help from his family, Rodrigo began a successful in-home business.

Sleep seemed beyond reach that night. I could find no way to turn off the procession of disturbing thoughts that troubled my mind. Seeking peace, I prayed, asking the Lord about my concern: How could I fulfill my commitment to be a good wife and a good mother amid the iniquity of the world? I was especially worried about helping my one-year-old daughter grow up uncontaminated by the immorality we so often see or hear in movies, music, television, or other media, even when we are careful in our selection.
As I prayed, suddenly I remembered a bit of counsel from Mormon. He had written to his son Moroni after reviewing the horrors of war and wickedness among the unrepentant Nephites: “Be faithful in Christ; and may not the things which I have written”—(and I thought at this point, or the things which you have seen, or read, or heard)—“grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up, and may … the hope of his glory and of eternal life, rest in your mind forever” (Moro. 9:25).
It was exactly the counsel I needed during that sleepless night. The Book of Mormon had come to my rescue again!

Not long ago, I sat in the Draper Temple, observing the sealing of a beautiful young couple. I marveled because I had some knowledge of the groom’s dark past. I did not know everything he had been involved in; I just knew that he had been involved in, well, pretty much everything. He had fallen deep and far. If there be no Christ, that young man does not change; that young man cannot change. Yet there he was in the sealing room, changed. I searched his face, trying to detect some residue from his dark past, but there was none. Instead, his countenance shone with light and love and hope and joy. Why? Because there is a Christ, and His Atonement leaves no tracks, no traces.

No matter how far or how deep you may have fallen, Jesus has descended farther and deeper. During His descent, He became acquainted with your grief, and He was bruised by your iniquities.31 He voluntarily did this so that He could bring you back home where you belong. Nor is it His aim to simply save you by the skin of your teeth. No, His promise is sure: “I am able to make you holy”32—without spot.

Beneath the picture of the Provo Temple is a photograph of another building, an edifice embellished with nearly every imaginable form of ornamentation. This building is a virtual temple of art, the Vienna Museum of Art History. I keep this photograph near to remind me of some wonderful experiences which my family and the family of Professors Garold and Norma Davis, and 30 beautiful, inquisitive BYU students had in Austria just a year ago. This massive, ornate structure adorned in a neo-Baroque style houses more than a thousand of the world’s greatest paintings and other works of art. In many respects it embodies much that is “virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy” (Thirteenth Article of Faith). Even devoid of its masterworks, this building would be a work of art in its own right. The grandeur of its architectural symmetry, its beautifully sculptured marble columns, and its ornate ceilings evoke feelings of awe and appreciation for the talents of the builders and those who gave of their means to help construct this beautiful building.

On one occasion as I visited this inspiring museum, I reflected upon the words of the Savior to a boy prophet in the spring of 1820:

They draw near to me with their lips . . . having a form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof. [Joseph Smith 1:19; see 2 Timothy 3:5]

Each time I revisited this museum or a concert hall or the famous Vienna State Opera House, I felt inspired by the talents of others, all of whom lived as best they could within the light they’d been given. But in each of these buildings returned the reverberating theme “[they have] a form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof.”

And then, suddenly, I was struck with a three-hundred kilovolt question: It’s wonderful that you belong to a Church which has a form of godliness and also the power thereof, but what of you and your personal life? Bibbed and tuckered in your white shirt and Sunday suit, with your spit-shined shoes and your missionary haircut, Brother Condie, do you perhaps sometimes have a form of godliness, but does your personal life really reflect the power of the priesthood of God?

Like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Eve, I felt a pallor of gloom sweep my soul as I reflected upon the many times I had exercised my priesthood unworthily and the times I had partaken of the sacrament without sincere intentions of renewing covenants. I retrieved painful memories of having reproved others many times with sharpness without having been moved upon by the Holy Ghost (see D&C 121:43). I recalled the conscience-wracking consequences of covering my sins in an interview when the bishop asked me just one question: “Have you been a good kid lately?” I replied yes, but in my heart I knew, and I knew the Lord knew, that a more careful interview would have yielded some soul-searching signs of wavering worthiness.

Brothers and sisters, for one of the few times in my life, I gained a glimpse into the depths of my own soul, and I didn’t like everything I saw.

Now let me contrast Brent with Jeff, who also had turned away from the established values of society, seeking in the hippie mode of living an identity and code of conduct. Like others whose hair grows long and who sometimes leave their shoes at home, his belief that “establishment” personalities care more about appearances than about people seemed to him confirmed wherever he turned, for he was often met with scorn and rejection. He wondered in his heart how he could ever cast his lot with a society whose members seemed to care little about what he cared for, namely, the love of individual for individual.
I tried to show Jeff point by point that every good hope that he nourished for mankind could be realized only in the Savior. One day Jeff came to me utterly crushed. He had, because of his hair length, been treated with scorn and derision by a man in a position of authority. Crying softly, Jeff said, “How can I cut my hair now? I have been thinking about doing so, but if I cut it now, it will be like groveling at his feet. It would be like saying ‘I have no backbone or integrity. I am willing to do anything just because I am threatened.’ How can I cut my hair? That man has made it impossible for me to do it now.”
I offered Jeff no advice. I simply read him the following passage from First Corinthians in which Paul counsels that there is nothing intrinsically wrong with eating meat offered to idols, except as it would offend a brother’s conscience. He says:
“… take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours becomes a stumblingblock to them that are weak.
“For if any man see thee which hast knowledge sit at meat in the idol’s temple, shall not the conscience of him which is weak be emboldened to eat those things which are offered to idols;
“And through thy knowledge shall the weak brother perish, for whom Christ died?
“But when ye sin so against the brethren, and wound their weak conscience, ye sin against Christ.
“Wherefore, if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend.” (1 Cor. 8:9–13.)
Jeff brooded about these passages. They said to him: “Even though there may be no intrinsic reason why shorter hair is preferable, there is nevertheless a good reason for cutting your hair. You should cut it so you won’t be a stumblingblock for others. You should cut it so you won’t be the reason for this brother to be angry. You should cut it so others who see you won’t think you join with the general hippie culture in repudiating the morality of Jesus Christ and be encouraged, by what they think is your example, to repudiate it themselves. You should cut it for the same reason that you don’t dress in gaudy and patently materialistic clothing—because by your appearance you don’t want to encourage others in a way of life that is contrary to their consciences.”
To cut his hair under threat was one of the hardest things Jeff could have been asked to do, because in the eyes of his peers he would be seen as yielding to the threat of a member of the “establishment.” Nevertheless, the next time I saw him, his hair was cut. This was a magnificent Christian act, done wholly for others. It won’t surprise you to learn that Jeff is now on a mission, delightedly introducing to others what he has discovered.
What is the difference between Jeff and Brent? It is this: For Jeff, the gospel suddenly became a technicolor production. He had tasted its spirit. His love for the Savior had been stirred. He perceived the magnificent possibilities involved in treating other people in the way the Savior would treat them. For Jeff, the marvelous alternative of the gospel made Satan’s way of life pale by comparison. He had found another alternative besides the two choices that Brent had known. He didn’t have to choose, as did Brent, between the exciting rebelliousness of sin and the restrictions of a black-and-white, letter-of-the-law version of religion.
Suddenly for Jeff there were immediate opportunities for realization of his dreams. Suddenly the commandments of the Lord were no longer restrictive to him, for his desires, based primarily on selfish satisfactions that had put him in opposition to the Lord’s commandments, seemed to have been purged out of his soul. His will was no longer in conflict with the Lord’s; because of the power of God that had come into his heart and had purified him from selfish desires, the way was cleared for love and selflessness to become the dominant motivations of his actions. In this way he experienced for the first time the only real freedom that men can know: freedom from one’s inner enemies, one’s evil and selfish desires.
Jeff was now preoccupied not with a conflict with commandments that hedged his actions about, but with blessing people, in the course of doing which he automatically kept the commandments. In the words of the scripture, he had been dead to the spirit and alive to the law; but now he was “dead to the law” and to sin and alive to the Spirit and to the Savior. (See 2 Ne. 25:23–27.)
With this spirit, Jeff became a new person, and the fellow who used to sleep in his bed and wear his clothes—the fellow full of resentment and guilt and discontent—had somehow disappeared.

Three months after our fifth baby was born, my husband took a pay cut to start a new career and begin graduate school. That required us to move two states away. Feeling financially and physically drained, and socially isolated in a new place, I became deeply depressed.
Going to church was hard. Reluctantly, I went, but I ducked out of meetings quickly to avoid acquaintances’ cheerful inquiries into how I was adjusting. They expected equally cheerful responses, but I had none. Ward members often talked about how blessed and happy they were to have the gospel of Jesus Christ. What was wrong with me?
I served in my calling, and I halfheartedly prayed and read scriptures. But my efforts didn’t feel like they were “work[ing] wonderfully” for me.1
Nearly a year later, the fog started to lift. Through a series of small mental, physical, social, and spiritual changes, I slowly improved.
Months later, with my depression behind me, I was praying when I became overwhelmed with wonder and gratitude for the blessings of gospel living. I felt that it was unreasonable for me to be so blessed. It was God who had granted me the spiritual gift of faith and a desire to know Him. I acted only on the desire He gave me.
“Why should I deserve blessings,” I prayed, “for doing only what Thou didst plant in my heart to want to do in the first place?”
To my surprise, He answered my prayer immediately with memories from my past.
“What about the times you sought me even when it was painful and hard? When you yielded your will to mine, still came to church, and still served my children anyway? My daughter,” I perceived by the Spirit, “you are blessed abundantly for your faithfulness—for choosing me even when you didn’t want to.”
I had thought that being faithful meant always reaping the fruits of His Spirit. Now I know that faithfulness means loyalty and fidelity to Him—no matter what. God’s reality isn’t changed by whether I can hear Him or feel Him. In times of joy or sorrow, if I stay with Him, He is always with me.

Perhaps I could illustrate. A number of years ago I received a rather unique and frightening assignment. Folkman D. Brown, then our Director of Mormon Relationships for the Boy Scouts of America, came to my office, having learned that I was about to depart for a lengthy assignment visiting the missions of New Zealand. He told me of his sister, Belva Jones, who had been stricken with terminal cancer and who knew not how to “break the sad news” to her only son—a missionary in far-off New Zealand. Her wish, even her plea, was that he remain in the mission field and serve faithfully. She worried about his reaction, for the missionary, Elder Ryan Jones, had lost his father just a year earlier to the same dread disease.
I accepted the responsibility to inform Elder Jones of his mother’s illness and to convey to him her wish that he remain in New Zealand until his service there was completed. After a missionary meeting held adjacent to the majestically beautiful New Zealand Temple, I met privately with Elder Jones and, as gently as I could, explained the situation of his mother. Naturally, there were tears—not all his—but then the handclasp of assurance and the pledge: “Tell my mother I shall serve, I shall pray, and I shall see her again.”
I returned to Salt Lake City just in time to attend a conference of the Lost River Stake in Idaho. As I sat on the stand with the stake president, Burns Beal, my attention was drawn to the east side of the chapel, where the morning sunlight seemed to bathe an occupant of a front bench. President Beal introduced the woman as Belva Jones and said, “She has a missionary son in New Zealand. She is very ill and has requested a blessing.”
Prior to that moment, I had not known where Belva Jones lived. My assignment that weekend could have been to any of many stakes. Yet the Lord, in His own way, had answered the prayer of faith of a devoted Relief Society member. Following the meeting, we had a most delightful visit together. I reported, word for word, the reaction and resolve of her son Ryan. A blessing was provided. A prayer was offered. A witness was received that Belva Jones would live to see Ryan again.
This privilege she enjoyed. Just one month prior to her passing, Ryan returned, having successfully completed his mission.
I never think of the Lost River Stake but what I see again in my memory that modest sister made beautiful by her faith. Our Father had used the radiance of His sunlight to make known His purpose. I shall not forget Belva Jones. Here was one who shared her talents freely. Here was one who sustained her husband—and then her son—in their priesthood callings. Here was one who strengthened her home, even in the absence of a husband and father. Here was one who continued to serve her God and all others. Here was one who exemplified the spirit of Relief Society.

The eight months following my activation were eventful. We were sealed as a family in the Chicago Illinois Temple, and I was again called to serve as an elders quorum instructor, only this time I didn’t quit. I was then called as a counselor in the branch presidency, and five months later I was called to serve as the branch president. A month or so after my call, I remember thinking, “I’m the branch president?”

I have told many struggling Saints over the years that if I can progress in the gospel, anyone can. It is just a matter of understanding the true power of the Savior and His Atonement and taking the steps to come unto Him.

I will be eternally grateful to my wife and children and all the faithful home teachers, quorum leaders, bishops, and other faithful Saints who set such a marvelous example for me. It has been a privilege to serve the Lord and the Saints these past 20 years. My life has been blessed beyond anything I could have imagined.

Many years ago I taught a prep course for English majors thinking about pursuing PhDs. One exceptionally gifted student, smart and diversely talented, completed the class requirements but seemed more interested in pursuing other opportunities. Several years later she contacted me and asked if we could talk. I invited her to my home and learned that she had gotten married, found herself living in places she hadn’t anticipated, and no longer felt as assured about following a lifelong career dream. She had explored other options, and nothing seemed right, so she was revisiting her original decision to not pursue a PhD. We began talking again about some of the items we had discussed in our prep class years before: the parts of a graduate school application, what kind of writing sample to use, what to emphasize in a letter of intent, and so forth. She diligently took a few notes. But I could sense in her feelings of uncertainty and unhappiness. Then the Spirit impressed me with a new thought. I told her not to worry about career tracks for a moment and reflect instead on her spiritual gifts. If she thought about pursuing a life most in keeping with those gifts, what kind of life would that be? The mood in the room instantly changed; she said she hadn’t thought about approaching her future with that question in mind. Later in the week, she sent me a note informing me that she had taken the question to heart, had found new clarity in her thinking, and now discerned a life and career path that seemed well-suited to her. Anxiety had given way to joy.

Developing new friendships. As a newly single sister, I became aware of two widowed sisters in my ward and three others recently divorced, and we became fast friends. We get together often, usually on Friday nights. Our times together have helped us grow close. We support and encourage each other. We have fun together. One sister in the ward, who is a therapist, occasionally meets with us and helps us understand our feelings and deal with our challenges. We look for the positive side of each sister’s trying circumstances. And each of us, at one time or another, has expressed the thought that our difficulties have brought us to a new level of spiritual closeness to our Heavenly Father. Although we would not choose our trying circumstances, we acknowledge the blessings that have flowed into our lives as a result.

Amy explained that when her modern-day family saw the pageant performed in Nauvoo over a decade ago, they recognised the beautiful pioneer spirit there and knew they wanted to be part of it. After applying multiple times, they were accepted as part of the family cast of the Nauvoo and British Pageant to be performed in Nauvoo during 2018.
Remembering that amazing experience, Amy reminisced, “We danced and sang and worked day after day in the hot sun to learn our parts, to be ready to perform. Our kids danced and played music in the country band all while costumed from head to toe in 1840’s pioneer attire. One week of rehearsals and the next week is go time! It’s quite miraculous how it all comes together. I’ll always remember and cherish the feeling of unity we shared as a family.”

Sabrina Echols, a senior who was introduced to the Church by her friends Darilyn and Eva, said, “Don’t be afraid to try out for something just because you might not make it. Don’t get discouraged. It’s better to try.” Sabrina knows what she says is true from personal experience. She tried out several times to be a cheerleader on the rally squad but didn’t make it. Then she tried out for school mascot and was successful. Now she wears the gold and purple that represent her school.

What should we do on the Sabbath day? The story is told about a poor woman who faithfully went to church every week. Her husband, however, was not so devoted. Week after week she urged him to go, but he would not. Finally, tiring of her pestering, he said, “Give me one good reason why I should go to church.”

Her reply was: “I can’t explain to you why I go. All I can tell you is that I go in empty and come out full.” (Rick Walton and Fern Oviatt, eds., Stories for Mormons, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1983, p. 112.)

My Quaker great-grandmother was named Rachel. Joseph Smith taught her. She had to reverse her notions from the past that there was little or no room for singing or dancing or playfulness or humor or for turning fasting into feasting. But on the theme of cultivating the inner light, she found in the fulness of the gospel confirmation of her earlier faith. Widowed nine days after the birth of her only son, she toiled her way through nagging poverty. She forced the bishop to take her tithing when there were six pans on the floor catching the leaks from the roof. And, brothers and sisters, in this day of growth in the Church, just count Chile and the Philippines only and you have a million Latter-day Saints who are living pretty much with a tin roof and a dirt floor and the 23rd Psalm on the wall.

Rachel served for 35 years as a Relief Society president. Even while hurting, she helped those who hurt more. During those years she was completely deaf and therefore more sensitive to the Light or its absence in those around her. She could not believe the promise made her by a patriarch that as Rachel of old she would have a worthy posterity. She had only one son. Her own portraits and the fading photographs are a study of clear eyes and serenity—she had the face of a saint. Last night we attended the 100th family reunion of her posterity. There are 700, and they are all of them in the world and of the world of Jesus Christ.

Before I begin my message to you this afternoon, I want to respond briefly to the request made by President Bednar. He asked that I share with you some thoughts regarding the First Presidency's formation of the new Idaho Area.
I first heard about this last March, just before April conference. I was at work when my secretary (who, incidentally, is not a member of the Church) buzzed me on the intercom and said, "Boyd K. Packer is on the line for you." I said, "I'll take it." And I did. President Packer said something like this: "Scott, we would like to make a change in your assignment. Effective August 15th the North America Northwest Area will be divided, and a new Idaho Area will be created. It will cover the boundaries of the Idaho Pocatello and Boise Missions and will include about 100 stakes. We are calling a new Area Presidency, composed entirely of Area Authority Seventies. We would like you to serve as the Area president."
He then went on to tell me who my two counselors would be, Elders D. Rex Gerratt and Ronald L. Loveland. He explained that we would continue our full-time employment while we carried out the Area Presidency assignment on a Church-service basis, just like bishops and stake presidents do.
It has been a wonderful experience for us. We are thoroughly impressed with the caliber of leadership of the Church in the Idaho Area and the faithfulness of the members in the area.

I can’t recall if I ever made up for that broken promise, but I can remember similar instances when I chose a virtual world over the real. I played video games throughout adolescence but became very involved with a multiplayer online game from the age of 16 until I started college at 18. I devoted hundreds of hours to boosting my character and my virtual skill set. I spent less time with my family, opting to complete quests with my in-game friends instead.
And it wasn’t just the game; I spent hours online watching videos, checking blogs or social networks, often running across or choosing to view material that I knew was below my standards.
As my virtual stature grew, my spiritual strength was shriveling. I became desensitized to living in the real world. I didn’t feel good about myself, and my priorities became unfocused. The virtual world had a grip on me, and I wouldn’t force myself to get real. I could sense the weakness within me but was unwilling to stop spending “money for that which is of no worth, [and my] labor for that which cannot satisfy” (2 Nephi 9:51).
I wish I could say that I eventually came to my senses and threw the game out, realizing how much of my time it wasted. Sadly, this was not the case. I stopped playing only because the Internet filter at my college dorms blocked it.
But I saw this as a chance to change. As I started my first semester, my focus shifted from building up my virtual character to realizing my true potential. Without the fantasy world distracting me, I tuned back in to the Spirit as it spoke to me of “things as they really are, and of things as they really will be” (Jacob 4:13).
In the six months or so that followed, I had the time and focus to do some incredible things. Instead of spending hours acquiring better armor, I studied my scriptures and learned to put on the armor of God (see Ephesians 6:10–17). Instead of honing skills that did me no good outside of a video game, I unearthed practical talents that allowed me to better serve others (see Matthew 25:14–29). I magnified Church callings, studied hard, and earned grades I felt good about. I made many new friends and (gasp!) even dated some.
Sometimes I missed that animated world, the competition and challenges, the in-game experience, the online friends I had made and played with. But as I thought about the changes I had seen in my life and myself, I knew I was fuller, happier, and more at peace with the things giving up the game had allowed me to gain.

Many believed that the death of Joseph Smith would mean an end to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Many believed that with the death of their prophet, the Saints would scatter and abandon their faith.

Such was not the case. The Saints rallied around Brigham Young and they became even more determined to finish the temple as a monument to the martyrs.

While mobs were torching homes and threatening the Saints, the walls of the temple continued to rise. The Saints labored tirelessly to complete the temple. One member of the Church, wrote of this period, "We labored 10 hours in a day, day after day. . . . Sometimes [we had] a peck of corn meal or a few pounds of flour and . . . sometimes [we would be] entirely out of provisions and have to live on herbs boiled with any seasoning. . . . The reader may think that the . . . scarcity of provision was confined to my family. Not so. My family was as well off as the majority of my neighbors. I had seen those that cut stone by the year eat nothing but parched or browned corn for breakfast and take some in their pocket for dinner and go to work singing the songs of Zion. I mention this not to find fault or complain but to let my children know how the temple in Nauvoo was built and how their parents as well as hundreds of others suffered to lay a foundation on which they could build."[24]

But the faithful sacrifices of the members of the Church bore fruit and the white stone of the temple continued to rise layer upon layer. Finally, a year after Joseph and Hyrum had lain down their lives, the Saints raised their voices in the Hosanna Shout. At long last, the temple stood complete. The desire of the Prophet stood in glory, a testament to the fidelity and determination of the Saints of God to fulfill the vision of their martyred prophet.

In the month of December, the first endowments were given in the new building and continued until the Saints departed. By the time the Saints had abandoned their beloved city, 5,634 members of the Church had received their endowments in the House of the Lord.[25]

Once, after one of the endowment sessions, Brigham Young said that, "If Joseph Smith had been living, we should have already been in some other country, and we would go where we would be the old settlers, and build larger temples than this."[26]

As persecution intensified, it became apparent that the Church must leave or face increasing hardship and persecution. They began the task of making wagons and announced that they would leave the city in Spring. As news of this departure began to spread, the mobs rejoiced but they did not let up their harassment. In December, Governor Ford of Illinois sent a letter suggesting that the government might not permit the Saints to leave. Consequently, Brigham Young organized 1,000 members to leave early and, on an extremely cold day in February, 1846, the first wagons began the long, arduous journey to the Rocky Mountains.

Newel Knight, on the day he left Nauvoo made the following entry in his diary: "About noon we ascended the bluff here. We all halted and took a farewell view of our delightful city that we had seen and helped to rear even from its infancy. We also beheld the magnificent temple rearing its lofty tower towards the heavens which speaks volumes in honor of the wisdom and greatness of our martyred prophet."[27]

Wilford Woodruff wrote in his journal: "I left Nauvoo for the last time, perhaps in this life. I looked upon the temple and City of Nauvoo as I retired from it and felt to ask the Lord to preserve it as a monument of the sacrifice of His Saints."[28]

Within months, the once thriving city became a ghost town. In 1846, Thomas L. Kane visited Nauvoo not long after the last members of the Church had left. He later described the loneliness and silence of the city. "The Mormons in Nauvoo . . .had been numbered the year before at over 20,000. Where were they?" he asked. "They had last been seen, carrying in mournful train their sick and wounded, halt and blind, to disappear behind the western horizon, pursuing the phantom of another home."[29]

Swish! The basketball sank through the hoop as the final buzzer rang. Josh had made the shot! They had won the game! He jumped up and down and high-fived his teammates as the bleachers roared to life. “Go Lions!” all the parents yelled, and Josh smiled to hear his mom cheering loudest of all.
On the drive home, Josh couldn’t stop grinning as he replayed the game in his head. “Wow,” he thought. “I’m so lucky to be a part of this team. And my coach is really great too.” He thought of how Coach John always complimented every player and did funny cheers to get the team excited.
“And I’m glad Mom and Dad let me sign up this year,” he thought. They’d even come to his games. Sometimes he felt silly when Mom cheered so loudly, but he was secretly happy his family was there.
He started to list other blessings in his mind. He had a nice teacher this year who helped him with math. His family had just gotten a dog, and Josh found out he was pretty good at training animals! Just last week, he found out his Primary friends would be going to camp with him, and Josh couldn’t wait to learn some new sports there … The list could go on forever, Josh thought with a smile on his face. Heavenly Father had given him fun talents and loving family members and chances to try new things.
“Mom?” he said.
“Yes, Josh?”
“I just love being me! If I were somebody else, I would wish I were me!”
Mom laughed and squeezed his knee. “You are pretty great, kiddo!”
Josh turned to face her. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks for everything.” He grinned and settled back in his seat. Winning a basketball game was great, but just being himself was the best feeling of all.

I told the sisters this experience: A young man and young woman who were going together were killed in a car accident, and when the father of the girl arrived at the scene, he saw these two lying dead and a whiskey bottle nearby. He was enraged, and he said, “I will kill the man who gave them that whiskey!” On returning home he opened his liquor cabinet, and he saw a note which read: “Father, I hope you will forgive us for taking your whiskey tonight.” You can imagine how he felt.